Yaoi Emblem: Raunchiest Dawn
by FlamingDoritos
Summary: Radiant Dawn. Follow the many armies of Tellius as they go to war against the Goddess Ashera and fight for their country-and to get laid. All your favourite yaoi pairings (and some you won't expect at all) in one easy package. Sequel to Path of Raunchiness.
1. In which Edward has some feelings

A/N: I'm back.

I'm so, so sorry that I vanished. I stopped doing everything that I loved doing for a while, but I've snapped out of my slump and I'm doing stuff again. Loads of people have emailed me and sent me messages to make sure I'm okay, and I really, really appreciate all the love I've been given. Nothing really terrible happened to me; I just got all my priorities bargled up and it took me a long time to get back into the swing of things. I've got a sort-of explanation in my profile, for anyone who is really wondering. Thanks for the love and your patience, guys.

* * *

_**CHAPTER ONE**_

_**In which Edward sorts out his feelings**_

_Just tell him._

The mantra had been repeating itself for hours, maybe days. The stupid little voice had started up in Edward's head the night that he and Leonardo had bunked together and it hadn't shut up since. It left him avoiding the archer's gaze at meals and staring when he knew Leonardo wasn't paying attention. It had him watching the way he strung his bow, fired his arrows. The careful way he fixed his hair in the mornings, or the way that he would check his reflection in passing shop windows when they weren't hurried. It wasn't that Leonardo was vain, exactly; he just took pride in his appearance. He kept his skin clean and bathed regularly and he always carried a vial of something-or-other that he used to keep his skin from cracking open in the cold winter months (Edward had laughed at him for it up until this past winter, when it had been so cold and dry that he'd gotten a terrible rash all over his arms and back). And when Leonardo would look over, Edward's eyes would shoot to the sky, or the floor, or anything else, _anything_ to keep the blonde from suspecting that something was different.

It wasn't his fault, not really. He was young, and it wasn't as though he'd ever been in a proper relationship before, and the only girl around was Micaiah, and Sothe had given him a very pointed glare and told him that he had no chance, ever, not in a thousand years. And who was he to argue with Sothe, second-in-command of the Dawn Brigade, one of the heroes of the Mad King's War, etcetera, etcetera?

But the issue of _what_ exactly to tell Leonardo remained. Simply mentioning that he had a pretty face out of the blue would almost certainly cause warning bells to go off in the archer's head, and Edward was sure that if the rest of the Dawn Brigade caught wind of his attraction to Leo's (soft delicate gentle touchable) looks he would never hear the end of it. And to make things even _more_ complicated was—

"Come on, Edward."

He was wrenched from his thoughts rather abruptly. Micaiah was giving him The Look and he avoided her gaze.

"I'm thinking."

She was tense and gripped her Light tome so hard he could see her fingers turning white. Whiter, really. "About what?"

"…how to get out of this alive." He looked around. They couldn't very well go back the way they'd come and now there were seven men between them and their exit. "We'll have to tear straight through, won't we?"

"Mm." Micaiah nodded. They were running out of time; the men were headed straight for them. A fence on one side and crates stacked high on the other. The passage was narrow and her lips curved upwards. "Edward. You can handle them one at a time, can't you?"

He fixed her with a look. "Of course. I'm not that new at fighting."

"Good. Stay in front of me and make them angry."

"I can do that."

He ducked as the blade of an axe flew towards his head. A quick upward thrust had his sword lodged in the stomach, buried half to the hilt. Hot blood flowed down the blade and over his hands. He ignored it and shut his eyes. Behind him he heard Micaiah say something in Ancient and the telltale sound of a Light being used surrounded him. The bandit collapsed and Edward stepped over his corpse, Micaiah following.

"Come on, then," he spat at the next in line. "Let's see if you're more of a challenge."

They managed to cut down three more men before Edward was finally hit. A hand axe, flung hard enough to knock his sword from his hands, slicing cleanly into his left side. Micaiah screamed from behind him. A bandit cackled in the background and he felt Micaiah's hands on him, the gathering of magics around her.

"No," he breathed, but it was too late. She pulled the wound from him onto her own body and staggered, falling. Edward caught her with one hand and cursed. There wasn't time for all of this. Yet another bandit was headed towards them and his sword lay far out of reach, having fallen when he was struck. Dammit. If Micaiah hadn't healed him she might have been able to deal with the bandit instead. Now they were going to die. What a _stupid_ way to go.

There was the telltale snap of a bowstring. Not a second later the bandit howled in pain, the shaft of an arrow protruding from his stomach. Another two shots were fired in quick succession and the bandit fell. Edward looked up and saw blonde hair and a gentle grin. Micaiah shifted in his arms.

"Leonardo." Her brow twitched with pain and the archer knelt next to them. "How did you find us?"

He smiled and pulled a vulnerary from the pouch at his waist. "A little bird told me. Yours, in fact." His eyes darted up to Edward's. "What were you _thinking_, taking on these bandits alone? That's beyond reckless."

"We had no choice," Micaiah said before Edward had a chance to answer. "We couldn't just leave the villagers to these monsters."

"Mm." Leonardo smiled and helped her to her feet. "Well, come on, then."

It was easier with three of them. Edward was still on the front line, but Leonardo was always behind him, not once missing a step and shooting arrows through every opening he could find. Micaiah could relax somewhat and instead focused her attention on healing them. When they reached the leader, she finally stepped forward.

"These people work hard to feed their families mere scraps." Her eyes narrowed and she scowled at him. "Then you come along and steal what little they've earned."

"Hey! I work hard too!" The leader grinned. "You want honest? Once I've caught and sold you, I'll have earned an honest penny!"

He lunged forward, but Edward was quicker, blocking the attack with his blade. Leonardo released, sending an arrow flying into the man's lower ribs. Micaiah was angry; Edward could feel her power crackling in the air and he was sure that Leonardo could too. The air around her hummed with energy and she lashed out. Edward didn't manage to close his eyes in time and all he saw was a sheer, brilliant white light before everything went black. He wasn't unconscious; he could still hear everything and feel the pressure of the axe on his blade slowly easing off. But his legs were starting to give out.

Again, Leonardo saved him. Another arrow whizzed past his head and Edward felt the spray of blood as it buried itself in the bandit's throat. The axe clattered to the paving stones. Edward turned to what he hoped was Leonardo and grinned. Hands fell on his shoulders, squeezing slightly.

"I'm sorry I blinded you." That was Micaiah on his right, her magic almost lazily drawing the ache from his sword arm. "You'll be alright in a few minutes."

"He'll never be alright. He's an idiot, remember?" There was Leonardo on his left. Edward took a breath to shout at him and the archer's hand slid into his. Leonardo chuckled. "Don't make that face. I know you can't see."

There was the sound of shouts coming from above them. Leonardo cursed softly. His grip tightened. "We mustn't be caught. Make a break for it. Run."

He let himself be pulled through the streets.

())CRAYOLA))

_Say something_.

But he couldn't, not while Leonardo was so carefully bandaging his scraped arm and still gently scolding him for letting them get dragged into a fight. Instead, Edward gritted his teeth, said nothing, and pointedly did _not_ notice that Leonardo had three tiny freckles dotting his right temple.

())CRAYOLA))

_You like him._

The thought came so abruptly, so out of the blue that Edward briefly wondered if he had even been the one to have it. Leonardo didn't seem to take notice and continued speaking, this time commending him for a job well done even as he applied a vulnerary to Edward's bruised ribs. The swordsman bit his lip hard and did _not_ notice how gentle Leonardo's fingers were, how carefully the other teen worked, how sweetly the archer spoke to him when they were words of praise.

())CRAYOLA))

_Tell him_.

But he couldn't do it now either, _especially_ not now that Leonardo was lying next to him on the cold ground. Briefly Edward lamented that he wasn't as tall as Sothe or as small as Micaiah—the mage was curled up in her brother's arms, his scarf looped around her shoulders and their legs entangled. Their blankets had been halfway kicked aside as they slept, but the cold night air clearly wasn't bothering them in the least. Edward sighed. At least he'd be able to share some warmth that way, instead of back-to-back with the archer and trying very hard to come up with some reason that they should get closer.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the blonde shook his shoulder. Leonardo chuckled softly.

"Didn't mean to scare you," he murmured. "I'm frozen through, Edward. And I am _not_ going to ask Nolan to help improve my situation."

And Leonardo was wrapping his arms around him suddenly, nestling under his chin just as Micaiah was a few feet away with Sothe. Edward nearly forgot to breathe.

"I'm _cold_, Edward," Leonardo repeated, and then the archer's chin dug into his chest and Edward bit his lip, tugging their blankets up and carefully, _carefully_ letting his arms settle around the other teen. The blonde was shivering and the archer burrowed ever further into his chest, nuzzling into the warmth of his neck and yawning. "There's no shame in keeping warm."

He let himself admit that Leonardo's hands were bigger than he'd thought they would be, pressed against his back and spreading warmth and comfort.

())CRAYOLA))

_He's hurt._

And that had been enough to send Edward flying into the group of soldiers who surrounded his archer, completely oblivious to everyone's warnings. Leonardo was pale, hands unsteady on his bow as he aimed. An arrow struck the soldier nearest Edward but it hadn't been a clean shot. Edward's sword found the gap in the man's armor. He fell. A lance grazed his ribs and he twisted away, swinging haphazardly and somehow hitting his mark. Micaiah was screaming at him to stop, to get away and let Nolan handle things. Leonardo fell and Edward ignored Micaiah's warnings, standing over the archer defiantly even as reinforcements surrounded them.

Leonardo's clothing was streaked with blood, and at that moment Edward hated every one of Begnion's soldiers, every person who would dare strike the archer of the Dawn Brigade.

())CRAYOLA))

"You've been looking at me recently."

Edward nearly choked on his dinner, and in the background he heard Nolan laughing. "I'm sorry?"

Leonardo shrugged. "You've been looking at me recently. And you're talking to me less and less. Has something happened? Did I make you angry? Is there sand in my hair or some scar on my face I'm not aware of?" His fingertips traced over his left cheek as though he were checking for a mark.

"I haven't been looking at you."

"You're lying."

He could tell that Leonardo was grinning, even without looking. "I've just…"

"You've just what? I know you're staring, Edward. You think I haven't noticed, but I have. I want to know why you keep looking at me."

"See, I'm secretly planning to make a jacket from your skin and I think—"

"_Edward_."

The swordsman let out frustrated growl and leaned in close enough that the others wouldn't hear. "Because you're pretty, alright? Prettier than Micaiah. People like to look a pretty things." He could feel himself turning red. "And you're really, really pretty. Like…like really, really."

"Like beautiful?" Leonardo was grinning. His cheeks were tinged red, but he was still grinning. How was he still grinning?

"L-like—"

"So does that mean that you like me, then, or do you just need something pretty to look at because Sothe would kill you if you looked at Micaiah?"

And then Edward was silent because the truth was that maybe, just maybe, he did sort of like Leonardo, just a little bit. And as the silence wore on, the blonde seemed to realize. He turned a spectacular shade of red and stared at the sky, absently twirling his fork from finger to finger. "You…you don't, do you?"

"I don't know. I…maybe?" Edward groaned and slumped onto the table. "I don't understand it myself."

"…you realize that I'm man."

"Mm."

"And that you are too."

"Mm."

The blonde sighed and finally looked at him. "Well, whatever, then. If you want to look at me I guess it can't be helped. But I can't really say that the feeling is mutual, y'know? You're like…you're a good friend. Not really someone I'd want to…to court, necessarily."

"I understand." He had to fight to keep his voice steady. "I—"

"Don't think about it too hard." Leonardo downed the last of his stew and stood, grinning. "You might hurt yourself."

"Mm."

He decided that it was alright to notice that Leonardo's ears were still bright red.


	2. In which an army is gathered

A/N: Look, it's already up and it's only been a few days! Hurray! Just to warn people, I do have plans, but they won't always be obvious. So if you see people like Micaiah having whole paragraphs dedicated to them, I promise that it's for a reason.

Also thanks for the love! I've gotten a few reviews and PMs with people being in a somewhat celebratory mood, so hurray, I'm glad that I could make you happy. Updates should be fairly regular for the rest of the summer since I have a reasonable work schedule this year (LAST summer was a delightful 70 hours a week. I made SO MUCH MONEY but I also never slept or relaxed, so...) and I also have a great deal of this written already. It's just a matter of getting the rest of it written. So we'll see. Enjoy!

* * *

_**CHAPTER TWO**_

_**In which an army is gathered**_

"_You_."

It had taken serious willpower for Sothe not to cut her throat right then and there. He hadn't known what had happened to her after the sabotage, only that she had been gone by the time they had won the war and begun celebrating. Micaiah was looking at him incredulously.

"_Sothe_," she hissed, "you're being _rude_."

He mentally thanked Ashera that he was taller than she was, shoved her away (as gently as he could), and stood nearly nose to nose with Aimee.

"How on earth did you wind up _here_?"

She gave him a cold look. "I got out of prison half a year ago, thank you. I've been travelling with the caravan again. Until a few days ago. They captured me without a word and threw me back in here."

Sothe couldn't help smirking. "So you're back where you belong, then."

Micaiah punched him then, hard. It was unexpected and he nearly staggered from the blow. He opened his mouth to protest, to explain, but she gave him a withering look and he shut his mouth again. In moments she was apologizing profusely.

The other prisoner chuckled. Sothe could have sworn he looked familiar, but there really wasn't time for this.

"We need to _leave_," he emphasized over his sister's frantic apologizing. "I grabbed a couple tomes for you but I don't know if they're the right kind."

Almost immediately her face lit up, their manners forgotten. "This is a Thani. A new one. And—and where did you get a Shine?"

She glowed when she got new things, even if they were weapons. Sothe took the opportunity to pull her into a hug, ignoring the look on Aimee's face. Micaiah squeezed him hard. She didn't need to say anything; he knew.

_I forgive you_._ Butthead_.

())CRAYOLA))

"I'm sorry to call you here like this. Forgive me."

Micaiah didn't meet Pelleas' eyes. "It's alright."

He was hopeful, though. "Can I pour you some tea? Or is there something else you would prefer?"

"Tea is fine."

The prince handed her a steaming cup. "It's a special blend of Muston's. I hope you like it." Then he sighed and looked away from her. "I know you are angry with me. Please, forgive me."

"Why did you stop showing up at meetings?"

"It…it was at Izuka's request."

Micaiah let out a frustrated growl. "You are the leader of this army! You cannot simply leave all the decisions to someone else!"

Pelleas' head sank lower. "I'm sorry. I'll ask Izuka before the next meeting. I need his permission to attend." He sounded rather put out about this. Micaiah frowned.

"Why? You're the prince. Why should you need _any_ man's permission, much less your own advisor's?"

Pelleas sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I am the prince but…I owe much to Izuka. He taught me everything I needed to know to become a proper member of the royal family. He contacted Tauroneo and the other senators from Daein for help. Without him, I never would have been able to muster an army. I wouldn't have met my own mother."

Micaiah was silent for a moment and sipped her tea. "I see. You were alone."

He frowned. "Pardon?"

"And then he found your mother, gave you a place to stay, and provided you with a reason to live. And you feel like you owe him some sort of debt for ending your loneliness. That's why you try to do as you are told. Because it's as Izuka wishes." Then she caught herself. "Ah! I'm sorry! That was inappropriate."

He was grinning, though, widely, like she'd never seen him smile before. "You're amazing!"

Micaiah frowned. "Amazing?"

"You really can read minds! You saw right through me!" He chuckled. "Ah, look at me, I'm sweating. I get too excited."

He slid off his overcoat and rolled his sleeves up, fanning himself with one hand. A distinctly girly gesture. She paid it no mind, though. Her attention was focused on the mark. A twist of blood red on his right wrist.

His eyes caught hers. "What is it? You're looking at me funny. Have I got something on my face?"

"That mark…what is it?"

To her surprise, Pelleas simply smiled. "Oh, that. It's called the Spirit's Protection. The source of all magic in this world is tied to the power of the spirits. I made a pact when I was younger, with a spirit. Its power is manifested in me now, and its mark is on my skin." Then he shook his head. "But what am I saying? You already know all this. You have the Spirit's Protection, too."

_That_ sent ice into the pit of her stomach. "I'm sorry?"

"I saw you washing your hands the other day. I saw the mark when I walked up to say hello."

"You saw—"

"I thought of confiding in you right away, but Mother called for me. I didn't get a chance to tell you until now." He was still smiling at her. "I never thought that I would meet someone else with a mark like this."

"Do…do you think this mark is really the Spirit's Protection?"

Pelleas looked taken aback. "Oh! So you didn't enter into the pact yourself?"

"No."

But there he was, smiling again. "So it must have been the spirit that wished to make a pact with you."

"Pardon?"

"It's a very rare phenomenon among newborns. Usually it happens to infants who have an exceptional talent for magic." He sighed. "You truly are amazing, Micaiah."

She didn't look at him. "I don't know about that."

"Well, regardless, let's keep this between the two of us. We don't want people to confuse us with the Branded." His voice took a distinctly sour tone.

"The Branded?"

He nodded. His face was serious. "I believe it refers to beorc who have laguz blood in their veins as well." He must have mistaken the look on her face for something else. "I know! It's hard to imagine someone with the blood of a sub-human in them. I've been terribly mistreated by people who thought I was one of the Branded." Then he finally stopped talking. "I…Micaiah?"

She jumped. "Oh. I'm sorry." She forced a smile. "I think I understand more about you now. And about the marks we share."

Pelleas smiled and reached for her. His fingers pressed against her mark as he caught her hands over the table. "I'm glad I was able to tell you. To be honest, I'm surprised you didn't know. It's a relief, knowing that I have someone else who shares this mark." He squeezed gently. "Come talk to me again sometime. I enjoy your company."

Micaiah smiled. She squeezed his hands back. "Of course."

For another mark they sat and drank tea and shared stories. Pelleas really _was_ a good man, even if he was a touch confused half the time. And he couldn't be blamed; Izuka took control of every conversation before the prince could even draw breath.

Finally he deemed it to be getting late. Micaiah nearly refused but had yawned before she could get a word out. Pelleas laughed and shuffled through his things.

"Here. I wanted to give you this." He paused as he rummaged. "If I can find where I put it."

She laughed. "What is it?"

"It's this—ouch!—splendid sword I recently acquired. It gives its—dear me—wielder the upper hand in battle." There was another pause and a soft curse in Ancient. "Aha!" Pelleas stood and handed her the weapon. "Keep it for yourself or give it to whomever you like."

Micaiah frowned. "Shouldn't _you_ give it to the soldier _you_ deem most worthy?"

Pelleas shook his head. "No. I wouldn't want the soldiers thinking that I'm giving anyone special treatment. It wouldn't be appropriate. Or at least—"

"That's what Izuka says." She sighed softly but smiled. "I understand. You must have so much on your mind."

"Indeed. I long for the old days when I was poor. I had few worries. It isn't that I don't appreciate meeting my mother and learning that I can do some good for the people of Daein, but…if someone came along and told me that I was not the true heir, that I were free to relax and let this weight off my chest…I do not think I would be terribly upset."

"Prince Pelleas…"

He straightened. His eyes had a new light. "But I'll keep fighting. I won't stop until my country and its people are free once more. They need me. They need _us_, Micaiah."

Micaiah smiled. "You're well on your way."

())CRAYOLA))

He was nearly asleep, Micaiah curled up nearby. She wasn't asleep but she wasn't speaking either. Instead she was staring at the fire. Something was on her mind but he didn't ask what; she would tell him soon enough anyways. Briefly he thought about feigning sleep, but he knew it wouldn't work. She knew him too well.

"I still want to know why you were so rude."

Sothe nearly groaned. Instead he raised an eyebrow. "It's been a week. I thought you weren't mad at me anymore."

She rolled over to look at him. "I'm not mad, but I want to know what she did to deserve such rude treatment."

He was quiet for a moment. "During the Mad King's War, she was one of our merchants. She was after the commander; everyone knew that. And she would flirt with him, or try and win him over with food, or give him discounts. Anything she thought might work. But what she didn't seem to realize at first was that Ike was set on his staff officer. When she _did_ learn about them, she was furious."

"Well, I can understand that," Micaiah murmured. "But it's no reason for you to be so angry with her. I mean, I realize that you're a bit infatuated with Ike, but—"

"She poisoned him, Micaiah. Soren, the staff officer. She tried to kill our tactician because she wanted to win over Ike. Not because he was scheming against us, or a spy, or something like that. Because she wanted Ike. It's nothing short of good fortune that they managed to heal him. It took everything that all of our healers had."

"I—Sothe, that can't be true."

He snorted and rolled over. "If you ever meet Tormod, ask him. He's the one who found what was left of the poison." Then he couldn't help being a smartass. "Why don't you just read my mind? Not that you would need to. You're my _sister_. Why would I lie to you?"

She huffed. "You know that's not how it works."

For a long time they were quiet. When he turned to look at her, she was pulling her blanket over, scooting closer to him.

"You still feel empty," she murmured. "You need somebody."

Sothe smiled and tried to make it look sincere. "I'm fine. I have you, don't I?"

"You know that's not what I mean." Micaiah settled against him. "I want you to be happy. You're my little brother. You deserve it, after everything you've helped us do in the past three years."

"I'm fine without him, Micaiah." He couldn't help rolling his eyes. "Just because I haven't managed another strong relationship doesn't mean I'm incapable. I simply haven't found the right person yet."

"I worry about you, that's all." She was quiet for a moment. "You know that I get feelings. You two were good for each other. He made you happy. Without him it's as though a great weight has settled in your chest."

"I'm fine without him," he repeated. Absently he played with the ends of her hair. "If it makes you feel any better, I did send him a letter recently to see how he's been. Just between friends. You know."

And Micaiah was smiling, looking up from where she'd nestled against his chest as though she knew something that he didn't (which was the case, more often than not). "As long as I get to see you happy again."

())CRAYOLA))

So maybe, just _maybe_, he'd been a little excited when he glimpsed red hair and green fur on the battlefield. Just maybe he'd bitten his lip to keep back a cry of joy.

Goddess, Tormod looked _beautiful_. All long limbs and a stronger jaw than the last time they'd met (one, two years ago? Sothe remembered that he'd written to Tormod, _written_ to him that things were clearly not working out between the two of them, that the whole long-distance thing wasn't for him after all) and the same slightly crooked grin on his face. His voice had finally settled into something resembling a grown man's and he still declared himself to be the greatest mage around, and as they edged nearer, Sothe resisted the urge to drop his arms around the redhead they way they had in a different time.

That time was long gone.

Instead, he swallowed hard and tried his best not to beam. "Hey, Tormod!"

"You! What in blazes did you do?! You scurvy _traitor_!" Tormod scowled at him. Not entirely what he'd expected. Sothe raised an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?"

"You grew! Too tall!"

Tormod was gesturing with both arms now, windmilling them about as he raved. Sothe groaned. "And here I expected you to make sense. I've got more important things to do right now."

"It's important to _me_," Tormord emphasized, jabbing a finger into the rogue's chest. Sothe let the barest hint of a smile out.

"What I'd really like to hear about is that issue I wrote you about. How did it go?"

Tormod rolled his eyes, imitating Sothe's previous tone. "I have news—oh, wait, _I've got more important things to do_. I'll tell you later!"

He was sprinting off, fire streaming off his fingers as he tore into a group of archers before Sothe had time to respond. Sothe groaned and massaged his temples. A hand fell onto his shoulder and he jumped, half-expecting a lance to be protruding from his side or a knife at his throat. But it was only Muarim, chuckling.

"Little Sothe. You've grown up," the tiger commented.

Sothe rolled his eyes. "Why does everybody keep saying that?"

"Hmm?"

"Calling me little."

The tiger gave him a look and held his hands a distance apart, one at shoulder level and one at mid-chest, presumably indicating the fifteen inches that Sothe had grown since the war. "Oh, sorry. I guess I have to respect your manly pride now." Muarim's eyes were mischievous. "But I could never speak familiarly with my little one's good friend. So, with your permission, 'Sir Sothe'."

The tiger was darting away as quickly as Tormod had as Sothe began cursing.

())CRAYOLA))

Sothe hadn't ever seen Tormod panic. Not really, anyways. He had worried during the Mad King's War about this and that but he had never panicked; never been afraid to the point of losing his breath and crying.

He wasn't sure what to make of it. Or how to really comfort the sage either; they had broken apart two years ago and he wasn't sure if a hug was acceptable. But Sothe tentatively opened his arms and Tormod fell against him without hesitation, squeezing him tightly just as he used to. Micaiah looked at them and gave him a small smile.

_Aha, see? He does still like you_. Her expression was as easy to read as it always was, and he scowled.

"Come on. Take us to Muarim," he murmured against Tormod's hair. At once the sage took his hand and carted him away.

When they came across the tiger he was halfway between forms. Tormod fell to his knees next to Muarim and shook him, flinching away when his father snapped at him.

"Muarim! Get a hold of yourself! Look at me!"

Muarim's eyes flickered open. "…gh…little…one…"

Tormod looked up at them desperately. "This happens over and over. Muarim suddenly transforms and he growls like he's losing his mind. And if I…if I grab him and yell his name over and over again, he comes back, but then it just starts over. And—" he sniffled "—and when he's growling, his eyes…it's as if…as if one of _them_ is looking at me."

Micaiah's brow furrowed. "Them? One of them? One of who?"

Sothe knew, though. He dropped down next to Tormod and squeezed his shoulder. He let out a frustrated growl. Whether they were together or not, Tormod was still his friend.

"H-help him, _please_. I don't know what to do. And the time between transformations is g-getting shorter and sh-shorter."

Muarim reached for Tormod. "I…I can't…Tormod, get away…"

"No! I'll die before I let you go feral! Muarim!" The tiger's eyes had glazed over. "Muarim! Look at me!"

It hurt to see the sage like this and Sothe pressed against him from behind, kissed the back of his neck and whispered that it was alright, that they would fix this. Tormod was shaking and sobbing and he gripped one of Sothe's hands tightly, still begging Muarim to come back to him. The tiger was going fast, though, growling and baring his fangs at them.

Someone stepped in behind them and Sothe felt a pulse through the air. He recognized the voice as Rafiel's but the melody was something he had heard only once before, from Reyson and Leanne at the very end of the Mad King's War. He nearly didn't recognize it. Muarim went tense. A blue glow settled around the tiger, pulsed red, and then vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The tiger collapsed.

"Muarim!" Tormod was still panicking. Rafiel knelt next to them, placing a hand on Tormod's head.

"The galdr of rebirth restores twisted bodies and souls to their proper states." The heron smiled. "He will be alright now."

The sage sniffled. "Th…thank you. Without Muarim…life would be terrible."

Sothe finally pulled away from the sage and Rafiel took his place, helping Tormod to his feet and offering him a cup of tea, asking if he needed anything. Nailah and Tauroneo were there too, lifting the tiger and carrying him to the cleric's tent. Sothe glanced at Micaiah. She was pale and her hands were shaking. Sothe slipped an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"What was that song? It's…I'm shaking. I'm glad Muarim will be alright! But…I…"

"It was the galdr of rebirth. I heard it once before, in the war." Sothe leaned down and pressed his lips to her hair, drawing her close. "It's powerful magic and you're a powerful mage. It might have affected you a bit. You'd have to ask Rafiel."

"Mm." Then her brow set. "We need to tell Pelleas."

"We should wait until—"

She gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him down so she could look him in the eye. She was absolutely livid, jaw clenched hard and magic stirring in the air around them. "This is not right. As commander of this army he needs to know as soon as possible. Whatever drug was used on Muarim could be used on Vika, or Rafiel, or Lady Nailah, or Volug. I am your older sister, Sothe, and you will _listen_ to me and do as I say. We are telling Pelleas and we are telling him _now_."

Sothe swallowed. "Ma'am."

())CRAYOLA))

"Feral Ones?"

Sothe nodded. "In the Mad King's War, Daein's military developed living weapons. They were called Feral Ones. Laguz that had been warped and twisted by…by _terrible_ experiments. I saw the aftermath in the basement of Gritnea Tower. I nearly threw up on the spot. It was…horrific."

"'Horrific,' you say!?" Izuka cut in front of the prince, shoving him out of the way as he always did. "Do you mean to refute the highly effective results of my brilliant research!?"

Micaiah's eyes hardened. "Then it was you! You gave Muarim the drug to turn him into a Feral One!"

"And what's wrong with that!? Maintaining constant battle strength in beast state…how splendid!"

Tormod pushed between Micaiah and Sothe. "How _dare_ you?! Transforming laguz into Feral Ones dramatically shortens their life spans! It utterly _destroys_ their sense of self and they do nothing but fight until they die! And _you_! You gave my _father_ that drug!"

"Pawns need no sense of self!" the other man raged. "It's only natural to sacrifice soldiers for victory in war!"

Micaiah was next to Tormod now, leaning over the table and shouting. "You twisted maniac! You are the _lowest,_ most _vile_—"

"Enough!"

They jumped and turned to Pelleas. He had fallen to his knees next to Tormod. "Look, Izuka clearly did a terrible thing to that sub-hum—that laguz, I apologize." He looked up at the redhead. "Tormod. I am truly sorry. He will not use the drug again. His prince _orders _him to dispose of the rest," Pelleas added, sending a pointed glare at Izuka. "Please, Tormod. Try to forgive him."

Izuka was furious. "My prince! We must not have royalty bowing and scraping before swine like—"

"That's enough!" Tormod turned and fled. Sothe made to go after him but Micaiah caught his elbow.

"Let him go," she murmured. "He needs some time to himself."

())CRAYOLA))

A mark later Sothe finally found the sage sitting alone under a tree. Wordlessly he sat next to Tormod. The redhead leaned on his shoulder and sighed.

"Thanks," Tormod finally whispered. "Just for being there. It…it really helped."

"Anytime," Sothe replied. "Though hopefully next time it will not be in such horrible circumstances."

Tormod chuckled softly and turned slightly, draping one arm over the rogue's stomach. Sothe pulled him in just a touch closer and squeezed. They were silent for a long time.

"Do you remember the last time we sat like this?"

"Exactly like this?" Sothe frowned; why was Tormod asking him this?

"It was three years ago. We'd just…you-know." Tormod flushed and grinned and Sothe couldn't help smiling as well. He remembered this too well. "And Muarim came in and flipped out at us for being with each other."

"And you grabbed me and we just took off." Sothe laughed. "We ran straight through the war meeting, didn't we? Ike looked ready to murder us until he realized we were being chased by an angry tiger."

"Afterwards you carried me out where nobody would find us, and you sat under a tree and held me." Tormod smiled. "Exactly like this."

"Not exactly like this," Sothe murmured. "We were…we hadn't—"

"Hey, it's fine." Tormod sat up. "Things are different now; I get that. I'm just saying. It's nice to finally be able to sit with you and talk without anyone else breathing down our necks or calling us away from each other. It's good to hear your _voice_, Sothe. Letters are good and all but I'd nearly forgotten what you sound like."

"I…" Sothe sighed softly. "I kind of miss you, y'know?"

"I'm right here."

"No. I miss—" he was bright red, he was _sure_ of it, "—I miss signing my letters with 'I love you' and I miss meeting up with you a few times a year and being able to hold you. I don't know! I miss the stuff that we used to do, before we grew apart. And it wasn't really that way until you showed up to help us in the prison camp. Then it all came at once. This huge rush. Does that make sense to you?"

Tormod chuckled. "Yeah. I know what you mean. I saw you and said to myself, 'Tormod, you are an idiot for letting him go.' But…" he shrugged. "I don't know. You seem happy enough with Micaiah."

Sothe shook his head. "No! No no no. She's like…she's like my big sister. My best friend. She found me when I was little and we grew up together. We hold hands and sleep next to each other and I kiss her on the cheek or whatever now and again, and I love her more than she'll ever know but I don't love her _that_ way. I love her…I guess I love her the way you love Muarim."

"Ah." The redhead had that look on his face, the one that said he was about to do something _stupid_. Sothe gave him a look.

"Tormod, don't you _dare_."

Tormod ignored him and leaned in and kissed him. Sothe resisted for all of two seconds before leaning into the sage and kissing him back. And the sage's arms slid around him and Sothe leaned back, pulling the sage down with him. Hesitantly he parted his lips and Tormod took the bait, delving in.

Goddess, it had been too long.

By the time they noticed it was getting dark they were both half undressed and panting and grinding against one another, cursing the last of their clothes but not daring to push things further. Still, Sothe couldn't help groaning; Tormod was straddling his hips, a fistful of his hair caught in one hand and the fingers of the other digging into his shoulder as they moved together. He hadn't felt like this in nearly two years. There had been other boys, but none of them had taken the time to know his body quite as well as Tormod had.

Finally he pushed Tormod away. The sage was flushed and grinning and he leaned up to kiss Sothe.

"Considering," he began, "how badly this afternoon started, I would say that this is a rather good way to finish."

Sothe rolled his eyes but smiled. "I would say that we've probably missed dinner. It's a miracle that Micaiah hasn't come looking for us." He sat up and looked for his shirt, somewhat dismayed when he saw it caught on a tree branch. "Come on. We should get going before someone comes across us."

Tormod sighed. "I suppose."

())CRAYOLA))

When he got back to their tent, Micaiah looked at him, turned bright red, and then collapsed into giggles. He flushed.

"Your farsight cleared up for a bit there, didn't it?" It wasn't a question he really needed to ask.

Micaiah caught his hands and smiled. "I'm happy for you."


	3. In which Edward learns some things

A/N: Sooo, it's a bit short. I've been a little busy this week but I wanted to get something posted before I get to do hell week at work and have 16-hour days (but it is great because I am gonna make SO MUCH MONEY).

* * *

_**CHAPTER THREE**_

_**In which Edward learns some things**_

"Listen and be amazed!" Tormod grinned broadly and dropped into place next to Sothe. The thief's arm absently found its way under his cloak, and on his other side Micaiah covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. Tormod felt his face heat and he swallowed hard before continuing. "_Big_ news afoot. The apostle is sending an inspection team to investigate the occupation army's abuses!"

"Really?!" Micaiah's face lit up.

Tormod tried hard not to stumble over his words as Sothe's hand slipped into his back pocket, squeezing appreciatively. "She sent me a message that preparations are finally complete. But—hey!" He made a grab for the letter, briefly cursing himself for not realizing what the rogue had been up to, but Sothe darted away from him, grinning as he unfolded it.

"She's issued an imperial edict to the forces telling them to cease all military action immediately."

The mage looked ready to burst from happiness. "Does that mean the fighting is over? That we've won?!"

Sothe nodded and swept her into his arms. "It looks like it. It's hard to believe it's over, but it must be."

"And best of all—" Tormod snatched the letter back and stuck his tongue out at Sothe "—Duke Persis is leading the inspection team! We'll be home free the moment they arrive. Our worries are over."

"So Sanaki's dispatching one of the empire's greatest men to handle things, then," Sothe murmured, placing his sister back on the ground. "That's good. He's highly influential, but he never stood on ceremony when we met him."

"So go on, then!" Tormod grinned. "Don't just stand there, go spread the good news!"

Sothe eyed him carefully. "_We_ have to spread the news? Aren't you coming with us?"

"Nah, it's mostly your doing anyway. We'll hold back and let you take the glory." It was too hard to explain that he hated Izuka, hated the way the man had been so desperate to conquer that he had nearly stolen Muarim away. Sothe had a vague idea of his feelings, but he'd never spoken of that night to anyone else, and Micaiah simply couldn't understand—

"It's Izuka, isn't it?" Micaiah leaned into his line of sight, one eyebrow cocked ever so slightly. "You don't want to come because he'll be with the prince, and you're still angry with him for ignoring your needs as a person and instead thinking only of defeating the occupation army."

(in the back of his mind Tormod wondered how she'd done that)

"Well, y-yeah. Basically."

She sighed and shook her head. "All right…but stay here! We'll come right back once we've announced the good news."

She looked around and hurried away when she spotted Nolan. Sothe didn't follow her, instead catching Tormod's hand and ducking into the nearest supply tent. Then it was all hot kisses and wandering hands and—

"Fuuuck, Sothe," Tormod groaned, digging his nails into the rogue's arm as the other man nibbled his earlobe. "What's gotten into you?"

Sothe chuckled, pressing open-mouthed kisses onto the sage's neck, undoing the clasp that held his cloak together and letting it fall to the ground. "I'm happy." His hands were nimble and Tormod's belt joined his cloak moments later, and he was smiling as he lay on the ground behind a stack of crates. "You've exceeded my wildest expectations."

Briefly, Tormod decided that he should be annoyed by the implication there, but Sothe was sprawled on top of his cloak and smiling the way he never did for anyone else, and it would have been a waste not to take the opportunity. Instead, he straddled the rogue's hips, chuckling as Sothe dragged him down to kiss him again. The thief was hard, rocking against him and gripping his hips, and Tormod _knew_ he was bright red when he vocalized (or at least attempted to vocalize) what they were both thinking.

"I—Sothe, I really want—that is, could we—I mean, do you want to—"

"Yes," Sothe purred, teeth scraping against the redhead's neck. "Absolutely. I _miss_ you, Tormod. It's been so long. I want to feel you and be with you and know that nobody else has known you the way I do."

The sage swallowed. "I'd—I'd really like that." He chuckled as Sothe kissed him again. "But maybe not _here_."

"Why not?" The rogue's mouth trailed down his neck again, and he knew that Sothe had to be grinning. "We're hidden."

"Until the first person who comes in happens to hear something, or smell something, or we get too enthusiastic and knock something over," Tormod replied. Mentally he applauded himself for not letting his voice catch in his throat as the rogue nibbled his earlobe. "Tonight, Sothe. Wait until tonight. We'll have more time, and I know that by now Micaiah is probably going to be looking for you."

"I suppose you're right," Sothe sighed. "But that doesn't mean I like it."

"Well, I didn't say you had to like it."

Sothe rolled his eyes. "I don't like that I'm not still kissing you, either."

Tormod chuckled. "_That_ problem I can fix."

())CRAYOLA))

"So—so I think I might like you back."

Edward cocked an eyebrow. Goddessdammit, he _knew_ that he was bright red and grinning like an idiot, lips tingling. "Might? You don't kiss someone if it's just 'maybe', Leonardo."

"W-well, why not?" Now Leonardo was blushing too, avoiding his gaze. "I'm not sure about it either. But I've been thinking about what you said, and I've got no reason not to try. It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"_No_, Leo, it doesn't." His hopes crashed as quickly as they'd been lifted, and internally he began cursing himself. Wasn't this what he wanted? "You kiss someone if you like them. Not if you can't think of a reason _not_ to kiss them."

"You said you like me, didn't you?" The blonde finally looked at him again, eyes as sharp as they were when they were in battle. "What's the problem?"

"I want you to like me back! Not just a maybe, but for sure!"

"Well, how exactly am I supposed to know? Does some sort of letter arrive for me and confirm the way I feel?" Leonardo groaned and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I thought you'd be _happy_, Edward."

"I am!" he retorted. "But—"

"So then _why_ are you making this so _difficult_?" Leonardo hissed. "What possible issue arises from me _trying_ to see if we can make this work out between the two of us?"

"I just don't—"

Leonardo didn't let him finish, storming out of their shared tent and muttering under his breath.

He didn't come back at all that night.

())CRAYOLA))

"You've been fretting lately."

Micaiah jumped, shoving her glove back on. Goddess, she hoped she wasn't blushing. "I have not."

Rafiel smiled and sat next to her on the ground. "You have been. You try so hard to conceal it, but you cannot hide from me any more than the others can hide from you."

Micaiah snorted. "Of course. Just look straight into my heart, why don't you?"

Apparently sarcasm was _not_ Rafiel's forte. Wordlessly he caught her right hand and pulled her glove off. His expression didn't so much as flinch when he saw the mark, and he examined it carefully, fingers tightening around her wrist when she tried to pull away.

"It's lovely," he finally said.

She had nearly snorted again. "It's disgusting," she muttered. She made no move to cover the mark. "There is nothing to like about the Brand."

"I don't see why not." Rafiel was still smiling, warm fingers tracing the lines that marked her as cursed. "So you carry the blood of the laguz. It doesn't matter. I'm sure there are some who would call you unnatural, but I certainly won't. You are a strong woman and capable of leading us in battle. You care for your family and friends and don't hesitate to right wrongs. There is nothing wrong with you."

Goddessdammit, she was tearing up. "Nothing wrong with me? I work beside you. I eat beside you. I have fought with you. You sleep in the tent next to mine, you take orders from me! I'm _nothing_! I don't _belong _anywhere!"

"Don't cry," he murmured. "Goddess, I did not mean to make you cry."

"I—y-you—"

Wordlessly he pulled her into his arms. It took a conscious effort not to squeeze the life out of him. Rafiel kissed her hair and wrapped his wings around them.

"You know that Sothe loves you," he finally murmured. "I have not felt such strong devotion between beorc in a very long time."

"He's my b-brother," Micaiah managed to say. "He's my only f-family."

He kissed her forehead. "And that man would do anything for you _because_ you are his sister. You are the only family he has ever known. He loves you regardless of what you are, and you _know_ that."

"He loves Tormod."

"You are the only family he has," Rafiel repeated. "He loves Tormod. I cannot disagree with you in regards to that. But he also loves you very much. Regardless of the mark that is on your skin." The heron squeezed her tightly. "And regardless of the mark on your skin, I care for you as well. I pray that if I ever have children, they are as strong as you are."

"You've only known me for a month."

He pulled away just enough to look her in the eye. "I know what it is I'm feeling. I care for you as a close friend, not as I care for—"

"Nailah," Micaiah murmured. "Not the way that you love Nailah."

He blinked. "No," he finally said. "I do not love you the same way I love Nailah. But I do care about you, Micaiah. Regardless of who your parents were."

For a long time they were silent. Rafiel finally broke the silence by asking how she'd known about Nailah. She hadn't been able to help smiling.

"I just did," she replied. "Sometimes I see people and I just know things about them, or I'll be walking somewhere and see something that's about to happen. When we were in Nevassa, running from the soldiers, one of them nearly killed a boy. I felt it not even a minute beforehand. I don't know how. I knew that something terrible was going to happen, and that it would be prevented if I managed to get there in time."

"So you can hear the spirits, then."

She shrugged. "I'm not sure I'd call it that. But I know things, impossible things. I can tell Sothe how he's feeling before he even realises it himself, and I do not have a particularly difficult time learning new magics. I suppose it could be the spirits, but I think that if it were them it would be more commonly heard of amongst mages."

Rafiel raised an eyebrow, considering. "You might be a descendent of the heron clan, then."

())CRAYOLA))

Inevitably, Edward came to the conclusion that he not even remotely in the wrong. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to pursue Leonardo, or be pursued back, but that fact of the matter was that Leonardo wasn't taking this seriously _at all_. What kind of person just kissed someone else out of sheer impulse? You had to be crazy to do something like that, even if the other party had already established where they stood. It wasn't as though this were something casual, either—Leonardo had very carefully gotten his attention, leaned in without hesitation, and made it quite clear what he was doing. _On the lips_.

And Edward had _yelled_ at him afterward. But it wasn't as though he were the one in the wrong—it _had_ been _his_ mouth. And for Leonardo to shrug it off as though it were nothing, as though it hadn't meant the world to Edward…that had particularly hurt. Because why would you _do_ something like that to someone and then tell them—

"Because it's better to be _honest_."

Edward nearly jumped out of his skin. Then he realized he'd said the last bit out loud. Leonardo sat next to him and clapped a hand onto his shoulder.

"Look, I don't want—"

"Shut up, Edward." Leonardo gave him a long, hard look before continuing. "I think you got the wrong idea. I meant what I said when I told you that I'm not sure about all of my feelings just yet. But that was _not_ meant to imply that I would kiss anyone who expressed any sort of interest in me. I think that might have been the impression that you got."

"What other impression would I get?!" Goddessdammit, this was just _frustrating_. If it was supposed to be some kind of apology, Leonardo wasn't doing a very good job of it.

"I didn't kiss you because of any sort of…_lack_ of qualm with doing so," Leonardo murmured, leaning in. "I did it _because_ it was you, and not somebody else. I guess I want to be the one that you're thinking about kissing, instead of someone else being the centre of attention. But I wasn't quite sure what that meant."

His lips were nearly touching Edward's, and the myrmidon swallowed hard. "S-so does that—"

"So I guess that answers the question for us, doesn't it?"

Dammit, that _still_ wasn't quite the answer that Edward had been looking for, but it was close enough. Leo's lips were on his for the second time in two days, the archer's fingers caressing his face. Edward knew he had to be bright red and when Leo pulled away he couldn't look the blond in the eye.

"I-I want you to be s-sure—" he began, but Leo kissed him again, more forcefully. This time Edward felt himself being pushed backward onto his bedroll, the archer leaning over him and grinning.

"Have you never kissed someone before?" Leo asked. "Is that why your feathers are so ruffled?" He must have taken Edward's silence to be agreement, and he chuckled softly. "Ashera, Edward, is that what this is about?"

"D-don't—"

Another kiss, and now Leo's _tongue_ was involved. Edward pushed him away.

"_No_, I've never kissed someone before," he gasped. "A-and I don't know what I'm doing, and I don't w-want you to think I'm bad at it, or something." Then he remembered. "And I want to know for sure that you're doing it because—"

"Because I have feelings for you, stupid." Leo had a positively feral grin on his face. "I told you, I wouldn't be doing this with anyone else. I don't know if I _love_ you, exactly, but I can at least say that I like being around you and I like that I'm making you all flustered from a kiss." His eyes were glittering as he leaned down, and Edward gasped as the blond licked a long, slow line up his neck. "Don't worry about doing it right." Teeth on his earlobe, a hand trailing across his chest. "I'll teach you."

It turned out that Leonardo was a terrific teacher.


End file.
